Striders Don't Cry
by ExperimentalHeart
Summary: Kurt keeps reliving and wondering why he can't have Dave to hold anymore. Crossover, Dave Strider/Kurt Hummel. I'm sick and I decided to write this at three in the morning, and I am not sorry. I am, however, crying quietly. T for character death and swearing.


_Something has changed within me; something is not the sam_e. _I'm done with playing by the rules of someone else's game!_

He was aware of a bubbling,euphoric sense of happiness as they walked, turning his head to glance at Dave out of the corner of his sea-green eyes, a smile tugging noticeably at his lips. Kurt held Dave's hand, intertwining his fingers with Dave's own, swinging their hands as they walked down the hallway. A tiny blush appeared on Dave's cheeks and he shook his head, trying profusely not to smile. Kurt, of course, noticed and just grinned, chuckling to himself. He reached out and plucked the Strider's shades off his face, sliding them into his own pocket. Dave blinked rapidly, trying to adjust to the sudden change in the lighting of his surroundings.

"Dude. Not cool, we're in school." Usually,it was likely that he would have shut his eyes on the spot, but didn't do so as they were walking and he didn't want to collide with the wall- or another student of McKinley High. Kurt shrugged one shoulder.

"So? I think your eyes are absolutely beautiful, red or no." He leaned over and kissed Dave's cheek, making him blush even brighter. Dave murmured some things to himself that were mostly inaudible, causing a fuzzy feeling to spring up in Kurt's chest. He was so cute sometimes, honestly. Kurt had been shocked that Dave had allowed it when he had gone to hold his hand in a public place, but of course hadn't argued.

He and Dave had been an item for a little more than five months now, and they had, quite frankly, been some of the best months of Kurt's life. They had their ups and downs, like any couple did- Dave sometimes got cranky if spoken to too much early in the morning, Kurt became exasperated at his boyfriend several times for not understanding his interest in contemporary show tunes and scorn for overlong mermaid dresses- but they had been happy for the vast majority of the time. Kurt knew that that was more than a lot of couples could claim, and that made him proud.

"So, are you ready for the fabled 'couples-discussion dinner with Kurt's dad?" Kurt asked the blonde boy, who winced, appearing nothing if not nervous. "Hey,lighten up. I promise he won't be overbearing- well, no, I can't promise you that, but I've talked to him. He's promised to be on his very best behavior." Dave looked down at the floor, muttering something. "Hmm?" Kurt asked quizzically, playing with his index finger. Dave stopped at the end of the hallway. There was practically no one left in the halls, just a few from the lower classes who had delayed in getting their books.

"I...'S not that, Kurt. I mean, you know me and your dad get along great. I'm on good terms with him, he's in my good books, win-win situation here. I was just hoping that maybe this day didn't come so soon, that's all." Kurt watched him, choosing his words carefully.

"Well, you only lucked out with the delay being this long because him and Finn's mother have been planning the wedding. Now if interaction with Dad isn't the problem, then what's wrong, Dave?" he asked gently.

"I'm just nervous about how this is gonna go, if you want the truth. I don't want him thinking I'm a disappointment or something, or that I'm not good enough for his son, because I don't think I could-" He sighed. "That I could stand that." His significant other stared at him, then dropped his hands slowly, giving a quiet sigh.

"Oh, Dave. How could you ever think that_ anyone _would consider you not good enough?" Dave responded with a small, grim shrug.

"It's not hard to think. I mean, look at me. I'm a wiseass, I only know the meaning of the word manners when I take the extra motivation to remind myself, and I have little to no people skills. Somehow I wonder why you even like me- Mmph!"

He had been abruptly cut off by Kurt kissing him, his hand reclaiming Dave's as he did so. Kurt drew back a few seconds later, looking him in the eye.

"Dave Strider." he said seriously. "Are you listening to me? You may have all those flaws and more, but to me you're the most flawed kind of perfect possible." Kurt then stopped talking, frowning. "Wait, sorry, that didn't make nearly as much sense as I intended it to." At the slight squeeze to his hand, he looked up inquisitively to be met with Dave's smile.

"Thanks, Kurt. You're my flawed perfect too, whether that makes sense or not." He leaned forward and bestowed on Kurt a little peck on the lips. Dave pulled back, blushing a fair bit, crimson eyes on Kurt's face. "Alright, c'mon. We gotta get me home so I can get all dolled up for this."

The two exited McKinley, both reveling in the sudden burst of sunshine that settled around their shoulders. Kurt put Dave's sunglasses on, making the other boy cover his mouth so as not to laugh. One hand went to his hip, Kurt grinning teasingly.

"And what do you think you're snickering at, Mister Strider?"

"They clash with your outfit, Beauty Queen."

"Hmph. Says the boy wearing brown with black."

"Shut the fuck up."

They crossed the parking lot, hand-in-hand, heading towards Kurt's luxury SUV. Across from them, a group of boys and girls piled into the bed of a pickup truck. The group was laughing loudly and calling to one another, some of them hanging over the sides of the truck. The driver yelled something to them as he backed out, not even looking where he was going and almost hitting Will Shuester's car.

Dave shouldered his bag, adjusting the straps on his back and reaching inside. Then he froze, letting go of Kurt's hand. "Fuck. I'll be right back, I forgot my phone inside. Bro will murder me if I forget it again."

"You'd better hurry. The custodians lock the doors in five minutes." Kurt held out his hand in an offer to take Dave's bag and Dave handed it to him, offering a crooked smile of thanks before turning around and sprinting off. Kurt turned and continued heading to the vehicle, one arm hugging Dave's bag close to his hip.

His head snapped up when he heard the sharp squeal of brakes and the sharp, high-pitched scream of a woman.

Kurt whirled around. Instantly, his hands flew to his mouth and the bags thudded to the pavement, falling behind his feet. His eyes widened and he shook his head violently, refusing to believe what his eyes were telling him. No no_ no _that definitely couldn't be right, he must be dreaming because that just _couldn't be Dave-_

And then he was running, because it didn't matter whether he believed it or not, the fact of the matter was that that was his boyfriend lying bloody and broken on the asphalt in front of the powder blue truck. It had long since stopped and one of the girls was still screaming in horror; the noise grated on Kurt's ears, why couldn't she just _shut up_?

He slid to his knees, not even caring when the fabric tore and his knees skinned, kneeling by Dave. There was a pool of blood starting to collect at Dave's abdomen, the stain visibly soaking through his white shirt. His legs were bent at odd, unnatural angles, his right one completely bent backwards at the knee. Kurt's eyes were wide with disbelief, and he shook Dave frantically, whose eyes were closed. "Dave?! Dave, tell me you're okay, please tell me you're okay...!"

Dave's eyes slowly fluttered open, the boy struggling to sit up with the help of his elbows and pretty much failing. He coughed raggedly, looking at Kurt, a pained expression on his face. "Hey, no, I...Why the long face, cutie, I...I'm fine..." A soft groan passed his lips as he looked down at the volatile red stain that was spreading like wildfire. "Ah, fuck, that hurts like a bitch, I swear..."

The side door of the pickup truck slammed shut and feet hit the ground, but Kurt didn't turn around. It was only when he felt his shoulder being shaken and the frantic, quivering male voice that he registered anything at all. "Hey, man, I swear I didn't even really see him, one second he was sidewalk and then he was out in front of me,I couldn't stop fast enough, I didn't mean to do it-"

"Shut up." Kurt spat, not even turning around. Dave looked to a spot over Kurt's shoulder, presumably looking at the driver.

"It's fine, dude. Nothing you could do, d- don't even-" He coughed again, this time harder. "...worry about it. Just give me some time with my boyfriend, alright?" He turned all of his attention back to Kurt. "Kurt, don't look so upset, you look like you're gonna cry..."

"H-How can I not be upset? You got hit by a truck and you're dying, I-" Kurt choked on his words, tears building up in his eyes. "I think that gives me a reason to be upset!" The tears fell from his eyes and trickled hotly down his cheeks, dripping into the collar of his shirt. He called over his shoulder, not even sure if it was understandable with the instability of his voice. "M-Make yourself useful and call 911!"

Dave suddenly looked very, very tired. He reached up and brushed away Kurt's tears, kissing away one that fell onto Kurt's knuckles. "Kurt, don't cry, c'mon, please...It's gonna be okay..."

"Just because S-Striders don't cry," he snapped through sobs, "doesn't mean I can't." Dave held his gaze, brushing his fingers lightly across Kurt's wrist.

"You really think I'm buying into the 'Striders can't cry' bullshit right now? Seeing you crying makes me want to sob like a little girl." He tried to laugh, but it stopped in his throat. Kurt swallowed harshly, squeezing his eyes shut as he gave a noiseless sob. Dave pulled weakly at his hand. "Hummel, get over here."

Kurt curled up at Dave's side, head on his chest, squeezing his hand hard. "I'm here, Dave, j- just please don't leave me." More tears flowed down his cheeks, the boy curling in on himself and rocking back and forth. "Y- You can't." He closed his eyes again, a little whimper passing his lips. This couldn't be happening.

He felt an arm trail hesitantly across his back before it wrapped around him, pulling him close, embracing him.

Then Kurt just started sobbing, hands curling into Dave's shirt as he broke; because of Dave's familiar cookie-like smell, because of how nice and warm he was even in the winter, because of the fact that he was lying here on the asphalt bleeding out and he still cared about making Kurt feel better. He felt lips press to the top of his head, kissing his forehead softly as he cried.

"Shh...It's okay, Kurt. I'm sorry. I don't want to leave someone like you."

"Then don't." Kurt choked. "I need you, Dave..."

He felt the hold on him lessen a bit. Immediately, he looked up. Dave's face was weary, his eyes closing bit by bit. Kurt shook his shoulders, tapping his cheek desperately.

"Dave. Dave, c-c'mon, Dave, stay awake..."

"..Sorry, Kurt, I..."

"…Hey, Hummel, can you do me a favor?"

"Y-Yeah?"

"…Tell your dad I said I...hope that someday he gets to hear that...Dave Strider...loved his son."

Then he was gone.

* * *

He woke up crying, tears running down his face, soaking the front of his pajamas. Kurt balled his hands in the pillowcase, trying to muffle the noise. There was a shifting movement in the bed next to him and then Dave's head popped out from under the covers, the other blinking back sleep as he gazed at Kurt in concern.

"Hey...Kurt, you okay? One minute I'm cuddling with my boyfriend, and the next he wakes up crying. What's the matter?" He pulled him close, gently stroking his hair. Kurt tried to calm down a bit, burying his face in Dave's shoulder. Dave let him take all the time he needed to compose himself before asking again.

"What's wrong, Kurt? Or do you want to keep it to yourself?"

Kurt had some difficulty answering, swallowing the lump in his throat, voice shaky in the dark room. "I had a dream that you died. You-You got hit by a truck, and-" He looked down quickly, feeling tears building up again. Dave rubbed his back, kissing his forehead. At the gesture that had just occurred in his dream, Kurt stiffened, then slowly relaxed, snuggling into his boyfriend's chest.

"Don't worry, Kurt. I'm not going anywhere. Now how about I take advantage of my newly acquired New Directions status and sing you to sleep or some sappy shit like that?"

* * *

For the fourth night in a row, he woke up screaming.

Kurt sat bolt upright in his bed, eyes wide with terror, nearly paralyzed with fear. His entire body shook, and he twisted his hands together so tightly that there was an audible crack. Movements like that of a madman, he turned to the empty space beside him, feeling the uninhabited area for a form.

"D-Dave?"

Then it hit him. Again. Hit him like it did every day; it hit him when he walked into McKinley, when he saw the memorial nearby where Dave had gotten hit, when he heard the murmurs in the hallway and when he saw that no one would meet his eyes. They all expected him to go off like a loaded gun- the crazy gay kid whose boyfriend was hit by a truck last year.

The moments in which he had to realize it most potently were usually when he saw the saddened look in his father's eyes, or try to speak to Dirk and then realize that Dirk now no longer spoke to anyone, or when he had to climb into bed and face the fact that Dave would not be there to cuddle with him tonight. Not now, not tomorrow- not ever again. And to dream another nightmare tonight, after reliving something horrible in his mind, to dream that Dave was there to comfort him when Kurt so desperately wanted him to be? That was almost more cruel than he could imagine.

He turned to see his father standing in the doorway.

"Kurt? Are you okay?" Burt Hummel asked.

…

"No." was Kurt's simple answer.

_It's time to try defying gravity! I think I'll try defying gravity!_ _Kiss me goodbye, I'm defying gravity! And you won't bring me down..._


End file.
